Say You Will
by Caz-sama
Summary: Something's wrong with Rose, and only the Doctor can help her... But can she trust him? Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

He staggers slightly as he carries her up the staircase, grinning despite himself. He had no idea she was this heavy! The other times he had lifted her, she'd seemed so light, so composed. . . The complete opposite of the girl he holds now. She seems heavier than ever before but yet she has never looked smaller. She is almost curled into him, hunched up in as tight as shape as she can manage. And yet. . . Her eyes are shut. Everything about her face is tense. It doesn't get much more unusual than that. Oh sure, she would get embarrassed or shy around people, and that could make her seem tense. But not tense like this. . . For now its tension, fear, pain that he sees on her face. God knows what horrors her eyes would hold. So many emotions mark the face that he is so used to seeing grinning cheekily at him, her eyes gleaming with laughter at some private joke, or flashing with passion in the middle of the dance floor. That was the girl he knew. The lighter, more carefree girl. . . He finally sets her down on the couch, relieved to be free of her weight, but almost instantly missing her closeness. Because he knows after everything that has happened to her tonight she will need him. And this time he wants to help. Its no longer about living up to her high expectations. Its about being the guy she saw him to be the first night he carried her. As he studies her face, she stirs but doesn't wake. He's relieved, he's not sure he's ready for her yet. Because before he can be strong enough for her, he has to come to terms with what happened to her tonight, and his part in it. He has to face up to a reality he never thought her would. He thought they were good people. He thought they would look after her. And, for once, he was wrong. So very, very wrong. . .

How he knows something is wrong with her tonight, he can't explain. When he left the club she was fine, drunk as usual, but fine. The usual hug, the kiss on the cheek, the "see ya" instead of a "goodbye". It was all normal. But this bad feeling, he can't explain it. Its in the wind? Don't be stupid! The stars ain't as bright? Oh please, what kinda trash is this?! But yet, he knows there's something wrong with her. He always does. Especially since she won't answer her phone, something she is virtually surgically attached too. He walks back to the club, and the bouncers are still there, and the red doors are still hanging open. Its unusual, given that the place shut around half an hour ago. He smiles at the familiar faces with no names as he walks past, half smiling at the row she would give him for not knowing their names. But one of them stops him.

"You fancying a piece of the action too then mate?"

His frown is masked by a bigger smile "Aye, its my friends in there after all."

"Yeah, the guys said we should expect you to want in on it."

With that, they let him pass. Only now he's more confused than ever, not to mentioned worried. . . He walks up the familiar stairs, and through the second set of doors. Never has a club looked so creepy. Especially when he sees her lying on the floor. Earlier in the night he'd teased her about her clothes, the top was too low, the trousers too tight, the usual banter. But now. . . Now her clothes are a mess. . . Ripped to shreds, in every horrible, unimaginable place, blood seeping through the scraps of clothes left intact. He walks towards her, and he picks her up without a second thought. He turns his heel on that hell hole and is almost out the door when he hears voices drifting from the curtained room behind him. Voices that chill his spine. Two voices, the voices of her friends, his friends. He pauses, wanting revenge, but sees the vulnerable form in his arms and knows he has to get her out of there. So he walks away. The bouncers are confused, but make no move to stop him. The look on his face is enough to scare even them. Enough to put a chill in the bones and freeze the blood. . .

She stirs, and this time her eyes open, darting wildly around the room. He has never seen her so scared. Even when her eyes meet his, there is no friendly flicker of recognition, if anything he sees disappointment there. Something they had promised each other they would never see. Her frown deepens, and she speaks something that isn't a scream for the first time since he left.

"You as well?"

This time, he's not ashamed to admit he's relieved when she closes her eyes again, the effort of speaking, on top of everything making her faint again. He knows she's not herself but the fact she would even consider he could do that to her. That he would hurt her. The one thing he could never intentionally do. He's never felt like so much of a cunt in his life. And despite that, there's a slight smile on his face. A voice in his head, so familiar and caring, so playfully angry. . . Her voice. . . Yelling. . . Telling him he's wrong, he's so much better than that. . . He knows that right now she would teasingly smack his arm, tell him he's a good guy, and point out that he saved her. He could have left her there but he didn't.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

She's dreaming. She knows she must be dreaming. Except dreams don't hurt. . . And all she can feel is pain. The physical pain is practically unbearable, the rope burns sting, the cuts all over her legs and abdomen sting like fire. But its not the physical pain that hurts the most. . . She wishes it was, she wishes she could just have that to deal with that alone. What hurts more is the betrayal. Those two guys. . . On some obscure level that didn't surprise her. They were always desperate, not for her, but for the attention. The attention from a girl, any girl. And when they didn't get it. . . She gets the feeling she's not the first. But him, that hurts more than the cuts, more than the aches she feels on the inside. He was supposed to be her night in shining armour, swinging from chandeliers to save her. . . He's not supposed to hurt her. It was always him who made her smile, telling her dizzying stories, making things so far beyond her reach seem obtainable. . . Making her laugh. He wasn't supposed to hurt her. So why is he all she can see now? No, he's not hurting her now, but all she feels is such raw pain that surely he must have at some point. It wouldn't hurt like this is if he'd stayed away. . . If he'd stayed away it would just be physical pain. And that she could deal with. But this. . . This is something else.

He's still studying her face, feeling more helpless than when he saw her lying on the floor of the club and heard those voices. Those voices that are ringing in his ears, making his blood sizzle with anger. How could they hurt her like this? Why? What could she have done to deserve this? He pushes her hair away from her face, placing his hand on her furrowed forehead, smiling sadly at the age old memory of when she used to do it to him. He feels her burning skin and frowns himself. He knows her, just by instinct. That's what had brought him to her the night before. Instinct. Well, it's stronger than reason after all. . . But now, his instincts as to how to help her aren't as strong. Not since she looked at him that way. Not since he'd heard the disappointment in her voice. She thinks he's like them. Suddenly his instincts start screaming at him, and he can't help but grin a little. Knowing what's wrong means he's a step closer to being able to help. He realises know the way her body is reacting to everything she has been through.It's a lock down. It's keeping her asleep until she's ready to wake up. Which means she's trapped asleep, a prisoner again, but this time of her own body, not two monsters. And he knows what she's like when she sleeps. He knows she dreams, and dreams vividly. But now. . . Now his money is on what is running through her head is a nightmare. Her worst nightmare. For the first time he shudders, his emotions boiling over. He can imagine the part he is playing in her nightmare. It was written in her face, resonating in her voice, screaming from her eyes when she woke before. . . How could they hurt her like this? How could they inflict so much damage on someone like her? His hands curl into fists. Oh, he knows how to be angry, he knows how to fight, but he detests it. How fitting. Maybe the ends justifies the means. Using something he detests against the people he detests. No-one hurts his girl and gets away with it. One shall stand and one shall fall. . . And it damn well won't well be him falling. Not when she's at stake.


End file.
